Tomorrow, Elizabeth and Charlotte will be 3 days shy of 6-months old.
They will be the same age Miles was when Megan died.
Tonight, I am thinking all of those thoughts that you think I’m thinking.
(I am always aware; my wheels are always making these connections.)
(It always hurts.)
My heart is built with a fuse that will surely one day burn out. Some days I know this truth so clearly that it scares me, makes me claw and cling to life in all its self-constructed value. Other days, I cheer that fuse on — beg it to burn as bright as can be.
(You do this, too. We all do.)